


Beach days

by phantomas (sil)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Discord in Keys of Winteriron, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14185239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sil/pseuds/phantomas
Summary: Lazy beach days, when everyone lounges around, the sun burning skin.Sunny beach days, when the war is over.“Don't want to go..” Bucky turns around, warm and wrapped in Tony's arms.





	Beach days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bill_Longbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/gifts).



Lazy beach days, when everyone lounges around, the sun burning skin.  
Sunny beach days, when the war is over.

Bucky feels the heat on his left arm. He doesn't mind. The kids runs circles around him, they mock him, run screaming when he makes to grab them, launch ticking sounds at him. He's learning Xhosa, replies with the few words he knows, they laugh.

He laughs too.

Steve is swimming with Sam. Natasha is lying with a book in her hands, a heavy tome with voracious werewolves on the cover, a web of tangled large leaves shading her from a suntan.

Tony is sitting a while away, on his own, propped on a handful of rocks, the gentle waves lapping at his toes.

The war is over. They did it.

T'Challa has ordered them to take a few days. Rest, regroup. That the same should count for him is ignored – kings don't take days off, apparently.

Another group of children surreptitiously surrounds Tony, but he's ready for them, roars at them and scatters them in a gale of giggles. Tony laughs, and his eyes meet Bucky's.

Bucky smiles.

***

“Don't want to go..” Bucky turns around, warm and wrapped in Tony's arms. Rubs his scruffy cheek against Tony's, gently. Slowly. Tony's hut is somewhat away from the others – a courtesy, at least officially, but also a way to let everyone breathe and choose their field of engagement.

Sure enough, fighting together has built new bridges. As solid as you'd like. Saving the world you live in with other millions of humans (whether deserving or not) comes before any personal issue.

As to Bucky and Tony. Well.

“He'll find out eventually.” Tony, still half asleep, murmurs against Bucky's long hair. He loves dragging his fingers through it.

“I don't know what to tell him.” Bucky perks himself up on his elbows, looking at Tony intently. In the half darkness of the hut, still a few hours away from first light, Tony is just a warm body he's learning to know intimately, inch by delicious inch. But there is a question, of a sort, in Bucky's words. He knows it, and Tony knows it, even if neither of them has formulated it out loud yet.

Tony stretches under Bucky, wraps his fingers around Bucky's naked waist, thumbs stroking lightly. “I have no coffee. I can't think without coffee. They have amazing coffee here. If you get me coffee, then we can discuss the Mighty Cap Rogers and his reaction to learning we're fucking like rabbits every night as soon as he goes to sleep. But most importantly, coffee. Operative word. Imperative. Numero Uno.”

“You sure can go on and on,” Bucky murmurs. There is a hint of surprise in his eyes, as he realizes how affectionate his remark sounds even to himself. He wiggles out from Tony's hands and the heavy blankets cocooning them both.

Tony wakes up again sometime later, darkness still lingering outside. A steaming cup of delicious black coffee is floating in front of him and he makes grabby hands for it. “Uh, hot hot,” he mumbles as he sips voraciously. “Mmm, yes. Yes.” He keeps muttering as he drinks.

“That's what you said last night,” Bucky jokes as he settles back in with Tony. But he's quiet, and lets Tony absorbs his coffee and get that smart brain of his brain properly awake. This thing between them - they haven't put words to it yet. At first seeing each other again, after Siberia, they have glared at each other, with guilt wrapped in there with all sorts of other feelings neither man is too keen to look into. Then there was a war to fight, and not much time to talk at all. Just act. Do what was necessary. And at some point, seek comfort where it was available.

Bucky massages his left shoulder, gently. As much as Wakanda's tech is amazing, what little is left of his arm is still human, and in need of some looking after.

Tony is sipping his coffee, now more to gain time and organize his thoughts. He sneaks a glance at Bucky, at his profile, his silence. “Well. It was fun while it lasted, right?” Pre-emptive strike, always a good strategy. And when Bucky doesn't reply, Tony starts to get up. But Bucky's left arm lashes out quickly, his vibranium fingers grabbing onto Tony's arm, stopping him.

“Fun. Just fun?” His voice is low and quiet.  
“What, don't you know who I am? My reputation?. Then again, you have been brainwashed for most of your life, so-”

“Fuck off,” Bucky lets Tony's arm go.

“No, you fuck off, Bucky Bear, dearest. Since you can't even get up the face to tell your best pal we're fucking, I guess that's it, that's all there is to say.” Tony's words bite, even if they're not shouted, just uttered from between clenched teeth.

They both know to be quiet. Bucky has been coming to Tony's hut for days, now, always at dark, never staying till morning. They've been looking at each other, during the days, as the group takes long walks on the sandy beaches, as they are taught more about Wakanda's history and culture, as they take some much needed rest after all the blood and destruction.

They've been looking at each other. Blushing, sometimes, in Bucky's case. Brushing by each other's body with careful casualness.

Bucky shakes his head. Turns away. Bites his bottom lip. There's a silent fragility to him, in times like these, that Tony doesn't know how to take, but it breaks him, each time.

“I'll tell him, if you want me to. Cap, no, wait, Nomad,” Tony makes the quotes sign in the air with his fingers around the name “and I need a new topic of conversation anyway. Me debauching his precious childhood friend will make for an exciting time at lunch.” Joking works, right? Right? “James. James, come on. Look at me.”

Tony always calls Bucky James, when they are alone. This man, this brainwashed Winter Soldier restored to himself by Wakandan science and one funky, mad teenager genius. Bucky is for Steve Rogers. Tony wants to claim James for himself. If he can. If he can get the guts to stake that claim, and be refused.

Bucky turns, with a sigh. “Is this our first fight?”

“Kinda. If you want. I can do better. You can ask Pepper, I can do great at fighting, a lot more spectacular. Really. With fireworks.”

“Just. Shut up, Stark. Shut up.” To which Tony wants to object, but Bucky reaches out to frame his face with both hands and then kisses him, lips on lips, then more forcefully, licking into Tony's mouth almost desperately. Tony takes it, and reciprocates.

Soon they're laying down together, hands exploring and holding. Super-soldiers are so warm, Tony can't get enough of it, of Bucky's skin under his hands, under his mouth. Can't get enough of Bucky's body arching against him, all that strength, controlled, aimed at their pleasure. When Bucky starts sliding lower, his tongue lapping a path straight to Tony's groin, Tony grabs his shoulders. “Ehi, wait, wait.”

Bucky tilts his head up, eyes clear and open.

“'s not just fun. Not just fun, James. Not for me.”

Bucky nods. “Okay,” he whispers against Tony's skin. “Okay,” he murmurs on Tony's dick. “Okay,” he breathes before wrapping his lips around Tony's dick and blowing several parts of Tony's anatomy away.

***

Tony digs his toes in the sand, tracing vague shapes as he tries not to look. Steve and Bucky are far enough from him and the others that no one can hear what they are saying. Their movements tell an interesting story, though, going to arms tightly wrapped around the chest to wild gesticulating in the air and finger pointing.

Natasha is languorously stretched on the sand near Tony. “It's going to be fine. Mum is not going to say no.”

“What gave us away, body language?” Tony asks her, using this opening as an excuse to look at Bucky and Steve more directly.

Natasha smiles her little half smile, adjusts the hat shadowing her face. “I didn't expect it. D'you know what you're doing?”

“Do I ever?” Tony's half absent reply has Natasha snorting in amusement. Tony is distracted because Steve Rogers is striding towards him, now, a full march stride matched with a serious face, with Bucky following suit.

Once in front of Tony, unaware of how the sun has tinted his skin in equal shades of 'red' and 'burnt' and 'lobster', Steve plants himself in the sand. “I have no idea what you two think you are doing, but I swear, you hurt him, you twist him around, I will have something to say.”

Bucky opens his mouth, but Tony replies before he can make a sound. “What if he hurts me, Steve?”  
They all stand still for a moment, then Steve turns on himself, faces Bucky and without any change in his expression, says: “And the same goes for you.”

“I don't remember everything, but I'm pretty sure I was a gentleman,” Bucky retorts immediately.

Steve comes back with: “You did have a reputation, Buck.”

“Well, I'm older now,” Bucky crosses his arms on his chest and stares at Steve somewhat fiercely.

“Do you want fresh mango?” Natasha takes Tony's arm, quietly, walking him away from the still arguing Steve and Bucky.

“Did Steve just give me a shovel talk?” Tony asks, twisting his neck to look behind him as Natasha drags him away.

“I think so,” Nat replies. “This is going to be fun. Just what we needed.”


End file.
